Frieze
by FrostFromFire
Summary: They accept the lives they're given, because fate isn't written in water.


Okay, so this is pretty experimental. I've never really written anything like this before, so I guess we'll see how it goes!

Also, I labeled the two main characters in the description as Namin_é_ and Sora simply because they come first here. The others are just as important, but unfortunately I could only choose two characters from the list.

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**Frieze**

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_The Pawn_

She draws on pallid sketchbooks, reds, browns, blacks, greens, all to cover up the _white_, that blankness that she so vehemently despises. Despises… It's too strong a word. The blankness toward which she feels some sort of shallow disdain.

She hates the blankness, because that's who she isn't.

An impossible hate.

Crayon and marker, charcoal and acrylics, she sketches some absurd daydream, wishing she could drown the parchment in a million different colors.

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_The Hero_

He crisscrosses worlds, loyal companions at his side. He fights the dark creatures and the nothings, all the while wondering what happens to their fleeing hearts, their fading bodies.

Is he dooming them to more nothingness than they previously knew? Complete nonexistence, the worst fate of all?

But he must continue to fight, for they attack. He only wishes he could stop before that final swing of the Keyblade. But he swings nonetheless, turning away before the ribbons of their former selves fade them into oblivion. It's the only way he can continue.

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_The Princess_

She is waiting. Always waiting. Hands folded on her lap, pretty hair flowing perfectly to her shoulders. Always left behind, always left wondering where they are, how they're fairing, if they're even alive after all this time.

She restlessly kicks her feet in the sand, staring out across the ocean, though she knows they're not out there. Better to look up at the sky, but the sun obscures the stars. Why must she sit patiently like some helpless damsel? Maybe that's all she is, all she's capable of being.

But she wants to be out there fighting, or at least helping in some way. Sitting on the beach of some quiet island never accomplished anything. Then again, perhaps that's why they left her.

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_The Loner_

He fights alongside the hero, his place unknown, deeds swept away like a few frail snowflakes in the wind. Face obscured (because the one he possesses is not his own), disguised in the attire of those things without existence, this is his life.

Will he always be cursed to lurk in the shadows? It's no less than he deserves, still… shouldn't his change of heart, all he's done to restore things to the way they once were, count for something?

He returns to the company of a bitter old man and a quiet girl who reminds him of the one they left behind. The shrouded man barks out strict, unfeeling commands and the girl shies away from his terrifying visage. Once you've fallen, perhaps you can never claw your way back.

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_The Lost One_

He is but a memory, a discarded shell, a part of a someone he neither knows nor understands. He was forced to return because he was less than a tool, a mere ocean wave or a forgotten dream or a harp string, all unimportant and fleeting.

And he's trapped, shackled in the consciousness of the one they say is _himself _as he fights those with whom he was once friends. He watches them succumb to the Keyblade's power one by one.

He screams for someone to relieve him of this prison, the psyche of the one he once was. But thoughts cannot be heard by others. At last he grows quiet, hoping he'll one day understand.

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_You're as real as the reverie of a forgotten tomb. Your dreams, your fantasies, your entire existence is as blank and meaningless as your desperate scribbles._

_--  
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_They call you the savior, for that's what you are to them. Your actions are necessary, but what will you do after the final fight? Scream through nightmares of regret and folly?_

_--  
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_Wait there, pretty damsel. Your heroes will save the day._

_--  
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_You're undeserving of happiness. You'll never be able to atone for all the atrocities through which you made them suffer. Try as you might, you can never claw yourself back to the realm of light._

_--  
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_You tried to find yourself, but nothing cannot be found. Accept it. Live in the shadow of the one you used to be._

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Fake.

Regretful.

Useless.

Unworthy.

Trapped.

* * *

Concede.

_You cannot fight a fate carved in steel by those who came before._


End file.
